Armour
by Determamfidd
Summary: The Doctor always needs a wall, a shell between himself and the universe. The Doctor always needs something to hide behind. Usually, he hides behind himself. Character study in 11 shots.


Author's Notes:

Something that simply wouldn't leave me alone - mainly inspired by the Sixth and Ninth Doctors.

* * *

**Armour**

They are infuriating, this pair of interfering human teachers. Chatterton, particularly, never seems to listen to you. Barbara could be swayed, possibly, but Chatterton's influence upon her is too strong.

They… can be impressive, at times. Their very naiveté protects them, it seems. Still, never does to encourage such behaviour. Most inappropriate.

Cultivate their dislike actively, that's it. Maintain your dignity. You are a Time Lord, a Prydonian. Not one of these flittertigibbet humans. Be an example for your granddaughter.

They… really can be quite impressive though, hmm? Hmm. That would not have occurred to me, but there, Chatterton just dives in willy-nilly. And it works. Fascinating.

Now, why didn't I think of that…?

* * *

Jamie is staring again. Quickly, now. Do something.

There, he's stopped. Perhaps the dear lad can stop worrying. I'll take care of that for both of us.

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. He does look worried. He isn't daft, is he? Quite clever, yes, quite clever really. I must never forget that — Jamie is really quite clever. He can see through my little diversions. He knows there is something not quite right with this situation.

The recorder…? No. Too obvious.

I never had this trouble with Victoria. I expect she was simply too frightened to notice me dancing away from any questions, all that fiddle-faddle and bluster hiding who I am, what I am, how badly I mucked it up this time. Jamie has been travelling with me for… a very long time now, I suppose. I don't fool him any more.

Now, what else have I got in my pockets…

* * *

Draw up. Tall as you can. That's it. Stare down your nose — it's an impressive nose, this time.

So much easier to hide things when one is tall. Maintain a certain gravitas, and your very presence is a smokescreen. Jo would have noticed the façade. Had she stayed. I'm not sure this journalist does however. That's quite a relief, really.

The Brigadier isn't fooled. I expect it's because he knew me when I was… shorter. Recorders and nervous blather and nonsense, dear me, it's embarrassing looking at old memories. Lethbridge-Stewart is a plodding old imbecile sometimes, but he can see how much you miss her. He remembers how you used to be. Still are. Oh, hang it all!

You're not hurt, though. All in one piece. Stand tall. Throw your cape back. Swagger slightly. That's right.

Now this new girl with the excited eyes can't see how much you miss the old one.

* * *

She can't possibly want to leave.

Grin. Shake your head, gasp appropriately. What a dull little man.

She can't leave now! We're only getting started! I'm sure this regeneration's got a lot left in it.

Why does your common-or-garden megalomaniac sort always want to rant on and on about their pitiful little reasons for their pitiless deeds? Oh, now _that _was good. Maybe I should say that aloud? Would get a good reaction — oh, the moment's passed. Oh well, next time's the charm. Just grin some more. That unnerves them.

Sarah looks extremely fierce. It suits her. I wouldn't want to be in Eldrad's shoes. Slippers? Crampons? Oh, never mind.

Does she really want to leave? Perhaps she's pretending? I could ask her… No, no time.

Just grin at the crazy rock fellow. Now maybe I could… well, Madame Nostradamus _was _a rather witty knitter…

* * *

I shouldn't have fought with Adric.

I shouldn't have fought with Adric.

I shouldn't have fought with Adric.

I shouldn't have fought with Adric.

I shouldn't have fought with Adric.

I shouldn't have fought with Adric.

I was always going to fight with Tegan, though, wasn't I?

I wish I was better at making the people I care about happy.

* * *

Colours, that's the thing! What else have I here…

I can't believe I did that. That's never… that's never been me. I'm not like that. I'd never hurt anyone! I…

Colours. As many as possible! This is a good face for colours. Poor Peri was so frightened. Of me! Frightened of me! Preposterous. Colours, yes, nice and cheerful. Counteract this absurd grumpiness. Bright! That's it!

Oh. Oh dear. This has the unfortunate effect of making you look rather larger than you are, you realise.

Well, and why not? Perhaps people will pay you the proper respect if you make a certain… impression, yes? Larger than life, that's the Doctor, they'll say!

I think I have acquired the regrettable tendency to bite before barking this time around.

Hello, what's this…? A… cat?

* * *

Ace is hurt. Look at her eyes, she's absolutely furious.

Well, I deserve it, I suppose. Not that I'll ever tell her that, but…

Oh for heaven's sake, I had to! She believes in me too much. I had to hurt her to fix the entire blasted situation! There was nothing else I could do! She won't hear an explanation, though. Oh, Ace. It's not true.

Ignore it. Ignore everything. Put a finger against your lips. Wink. Talk in riddles. Evade responsibility. Don't ever apologise.

If I pretend it never happened, perhaps she can too…?

The water looks good.

* * *

I haven't felt quite like this for some time… not since I was me number five. I wonder where I put that hat.

I don't know what to say. What a peculiar sensation.

Charley, Charley, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'll fix this, I… am Zagreus, no, I am not! I am the Doctor, I am the… the… oh, my head.

What a strange sensation — not to know what to say. Or what to do. And extremely confusing, yes — why the nursery rhymes? Why all this Alice in Wonderland nonsense? What do I _do_? Where is _me_ in all of this? Am I hiding? Even from myself?

No, no, of course not. Silly of me, really.

But… which me?

* * *

Jabe is watchin' me. Her eyes are full of compassion.

Descended from the tropical rainforest, how 'bout that then.

I wouldn't tell Rose. Lucky for me, then, that I don't have to tell Jabe. She knows already, thanks to the 'metal machine'. Trees, always sticking their roots where they don't belong.

Pat her hand, go on. She doesn't really understand. She only knows. Different thing, totally different.

Don't want to know how Rose would look at me, if she knew. Same sort of look, I guess. Compassion, no understanding. Don't think I could stand that.

Don't know what I was thinking, bringin' her here.

Shrug into your jacket, pull it tighter. Pull it together. You're going to save her. An' it'll be better than fine, yeah, it'll be fantastic. You'll be fantastic. Or else.

You got that?

* * *

You're not fooling anyone. Especially not Martha. But full marks for trying.

She's still standing there, by the railing. Oh, by all means, keep babbling. If I talk long enough, maybe she won't notice how hollow his death has made me. Should be easy - this regeneration was born with the verbal runs. Well, not really, regeneration sickness, healing coma, etcetera, but if I _had_ been able to speak, I'm pretty sure I would have talked the hind leg off a… a… what is that animal again? Okapi? Horse? No, waitwaitwait… donkey! Knew I'd get there, ha! Though I haven't the first idea of how that works — maybe if you spoke at a certain frequency, the molecules and proteins of the mammalian hind leg would vibrate, and then the leg would… would…

She's not coming. She's leaving.

Oh, and mental runs, too, well done.

* * *

Amy's looking at me strangely.

This face is useful. So young, she can barely believe me when I tell her my age. Less useful in a crisis - but then, I'm used to people not listening to me, people in general being so extremely very frighteningly alarmingly thick. It's sort of... nice being treated like I'm not dangerous or strange. This hair and the bow tie and all, handy for maintaining the illusion. She's slipped into the habit of treating me as a cross between her mad younger brother and her bonkers Space Uncle. It's nice to be teased, once in a while.

And then something happens, and she stops believing the illusion. Just for a moment, a split second, there's a wrinkle in her trust.

She really shouldn't trust me so much.

That stupid pollen.

Maybe I should tell the truth more often.

But then I'd be dangerous and strange, and what a pity that would be.

* * *

~FIN~


End file.
